


A Second Chance

by writewithurheart



Series: Everything's Better with Tommy Merlyn [9]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Chicago Med
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Gore, Medical Procedures, Post Arrow Season 1, crossover fic, pre-Chicago Med
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writewithurheart/pseuds/writewithurheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oliver finds Tommy in CNRI, he thinks he's too late and is forced to flee to avoid the cops. But Tommy is rescued from the rubble. He survives his injuries and decides to use his second chance to help people the way he always wanted to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After the Undertaking

**Author's Note:**

> The Chicago Med/Arrow crossover I knew I needed after watching the start of Chicago Med. If you're reading this, I hope you enjoy it!

**A Second Chance**

“Are you sure about this?”

Tommy pulls the black hood back as he sifts through the duffel bag in front of him. His movements are stiff, stilted as his movements pull at his stitches. He’s not used to this pain, not used to the strength it takes work through his pain.

“You can stay, you know,” the woman offers in a quiet voice. “No one has to think you’re dead.”

“It’s better this way,” he whispers, his voice rough from disuse.

She looks doubtful, but holds out a packet of papers. “The identity you asked for.”

“Thank you. For doing all this.” He meets her blue eyes through the thick-framed glasses. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, well, I have to disagree.” She presses a cell phone into his hand. “A burner phone. Just in case. If you ever need anything.”

“Why are you doing this?” He asks as he adds the papers and the phone to his bag. “You don’t have to. You don’t know me. It wouldn’t have mattered to you if I’d died.”

“You’re wrong.”

Her voice sounds light for the first time and the smile she offers him is genuine. She shrugs at the simple truth, but Tommy’s not buying it. He only saw her for the first time when he woke up in the middle of her cluttered apartment with her and Oliver’s bodyguard.

“This is what we do. We save people.” It’s matter-of-fact for her, purely statement of fact.

Tommy shakes his head. “Oliver killed my father. And you keep insisting that all you do is save people. He’s a murderer.”

Felicity purses her lips. “He’s trying. Besides, we don’t know where he went.”

Tommy spins at the dark turn of her voice, the quick movement causing a pang of pain. “What?”

“Oliver disappeared around the time of your funeral. John hasn’t seen him since, no one has. Just like the rest of the world, he thinks you’re dead and he couldn’t handle it.” She notices the hint of judgment in her voice. “Not that I’m judging! Totally non-judgmental. Even if I don’t get why you’re not telling your _girlfriend_...”

He snorts. “Girlfriend? You know what I saw the night before the Undertaking? Oliver and Laurel doing the nasty through her window!”

Felicity winces. “Yup. I can see how that makes things problematic, even if you do love her. Don’t you just want to smack him upside the head sometimes?” Her face twists into a frown. “Maybe throttle him just a little. Violence seems to be the only way to get through to him. The problem is those muscles. They’re so...big.”

The laugh bubbles up unexpectedly as she gestures just how large she finds Oliver’s muscles. It pulls at his wound, but sadly Tommy’s body is adjusting to the constant pain. Felicity blushes sheepishly.

“Sorry. I tend to babble.”

“Yeah,” Tommy nods. “I got that.”

She brushes a stray strand of blonde hair back from her face. “So...what are you going to do now?”

The bad starts to slip down his should and Tommy adjusts it as he contemplates. “I was thinking I’d go back to school. Ollie dropped out of four schools, but I actually got a degree.”

She raises her eyebrows. “I didn’t know that. It didn’t come up in my searches.”

Tommy grins. “You didn’t look up Connor Rhodes, did you?”

“You already used this alias?”

“Rhodes was my mom’s maiden name. Connor’s my middle name.” He stares down at his hands. “I was pre-med. I never told anyone because it didn’t fit with my image. Dad thought I was a liberal arts major. As long as it wasn’t business, he really didn’t care.”

It feels good to finally tell someone. He hadn’t even had the guts to tell Laurel. “I’ve been working on med school. Almost done with it. I even worked a couple rotations at my mom’s clinic before Dad decided to shut it down.”

“Where will you go?”

It means the world to him that she doesn’t laugh, doesn’t tell him it’s stupid, pointless. He thinks about it. “I’m going to find somewhere to do my residency. Maybe travel for a bit. I’m thinking about going back to Chicago. My mom was from there. I used to spend summers there.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” Felicity grins at him. “You’re going to do amazing. And I reserve the right to check in every now and then.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I think I can live with that.” Some connection to Starling would be appreciated, after all, He doesn’t want to completely leave his life behind. He just needs a fresh start, somewhere that won’t scorn him forever, somewhere he’s not surrounded by the whirlwind of Laurel and Oliver romance.

“Good. I won’t tell anyone. Digg won’t either. Promise!” She holds her hand up in the mimic of a swear.

Tommy smiles warmly. “Thank you, Felicity, for everything. I’ll call when I get settled.”

She walks him to the door, pausing on the threshold for a moment before jumping on him in a hug.

“oohf!” He grunts at the pain resulting from the impact.

“Oh, sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?” She winces, reaching out like she wants to touch him in comfort, but is too nervous to do it.

Tommy clenches her hand. “Talk to you soon.”

With that, he walks away from Felicity and leaves Starling behind in the dust.


	2. A Couple Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has some quality bonding time with the two people who know his secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will be a collection of little snippets of Tommy's life after the Undertaking, on his road to working in Chicago and then probably a couple segments of him working there. I haven't figured out exactly how long it's going to be, so I guess we'll just see how well this goes! 
> 
> Enjoy Part 2!

“I heard he’s back.” Tommy watches doctors rush around outside the break room as he holds the phone to his ear. It was all over the television earlier, and beside the returned billionaire, a familiar blonde.

“ _You heard right, the freaking bastard_ ,” Felicity seethes over the phone. “ _I jumped out of a plane to bring him home and how does he repay me? By making me his secretary. HIS SECRETARY. I’m gonna kill him._ ”

Tommy winces. “Ouch. That’s not going to go over well. What did you say?”

“ _I’m a complete pushover and I gave in_ ,” she groans, her anger gone in a heartbeat. “ _But he’s getting his own coffee. That’s where I draw the line_.”

She really cares about him. They both know it. Tommy knew it based on her reaction to the information about Laurel last time he saw her in person. Her face looked like what he imagined his did in that moment. She believes in him, and that’s more than enough to convince Tommy that it’s worth giving Oliver a second chance.

“ _He’s not killing anymore._ ”

“That’s good to hear,” Tommy leans back into the couch. “I’m thinking about relocating again.”

He can hear the frown in her voice. “ _What about your residency?_ ”

“I’m actually almost done.”

“ _Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t that take a lot more time than just a couple months?_ ”

Tommy chuckles. “I got an offer in Saudi Arabia. It’s a good one.”

“ _Saudi Arabia? That’s all the way around the world!_ ”

He sighs, looking down at his hand, examining the dried out knuckles. “Felicity, I’m in an unusual situation. My residency has been all over the place, but this...it’ll allow me to wrap it up in a year, with a paid position at the end of it. In a place where I can help lots of people.”

There’s a long pause on her end of the line.

“You said you guys are helping people,” Tommy picks up, appealing to her greater sense of self. “Well, that’s what I want to do. I’m not cut out for what you do, not cut out to go running through the streets fighting crime.”

Another deep breath and he continues, “this is the way I can help people.”

“ _I know that_ ,” Felicity sighs. “ _Logically, I know. But it seems odd. Is it weird that I don’t want you to move farther away? It’s not like we know each other very well, but that’s just so far away..._ ”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I still feel like I need some distance. Mom’s family, specifically my uncle...he contacted me. Seems to think it would be better if I’m with them.”

“ _And the only way to get avoid that is to leave the country?_ ”

“Haven’t you ever needed to just get some space from your family?”

Felicity snorts. “ _Well, if you knew my mother, you’d know the answer to that question. I just never had the means to actually leave the country._ ”

“But if you did?” She rarely talks about her family and he has to admit that he’s curious.

“ _I’ve always wanted to travel the world_ ,” she muses, “ _but honestly, I couldn’t picture myself living anywhere else, especially not now._ ”

“But someday,” Tommy agrees. Someday, Felicity’s going to want to see the world. “Maybe you can come visit.”

“ _Maybe_.”

Tommy looks up as Jen pushes the door open. “Come on, Rhodes. There’s been a bus accident. ERs about to be hit bad.”

“Gotta go, Lis. I’ll call you soon.” He hangs up as soon as he hears her whispered ‘bye’.

...

Packing up his life is easier the second time.

He didn’t form any attachments this time, didn’t ruin every friendship he had and watch his life go up in flames. He’s not running away this time, which probably makes the most difference. He’s moving with purpose.

Sure, it’s to a rough place that promises to be way more stressful than the typical life of a trauma surgeon, but Tommy’s starting to understand the adrenaline rush that compels Oliver to run over rooftops night after night. At the end of the day, he’s tired but fulfilled.

_Knock knock knock._

Tommy grabs the beer he’s been sipping as he packed up boxes and swings the door open. “’Bout time, Drew. I was starting to think you stood me...”

The black man framed in the doorway is not Andrew, Metropolis’s premier neurosurgeon. Drew is shorter than Tommy for a start and has nowhere near the muscle evident on the bodyguard in front of him.

“John.” Tommy frowns. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Felicity seemed to think you could use some help.”

Tommy shakes his head, frown turning into a smile. “Of course she did. It’s good to see you man.” They exchange a manly handshake before Digg moves into the small apartment he’s called home for the last couple months. “Beer?”

“Yeah, sure,” Digg nods, glancing around the apartment.

There’s a certain awkwardness in the air. Digg’s not a man of many words, and he and Tommy aren’t exactly best friends. He’s kept in touch through texts and the occasional email, using Tommy more for his medical advice than anything.  It was a comradery solidified by silence and beer.

“So you’re really moving, huh?” John asks after fifteen minutes of packing rarely-used dishes into boxes.  

“Most of this stuff is just going into storage, but yeah.” Tommy pauses a beat after taping up the box in front of him. “I need something different. Even here, I’m still close to my old life. If I had an island, and was able to spend so much time without human interaction, I would follow Oliver’s example.”

But he couldn’t do that. He liked being around people too much. Personal interactions were a bit far from him at the moment, but he liked knowing he was just one of a million faces. 

“Oliver’s not the best role model.”

Tommy laughs at that. “No. No he’s not. But this...it feels like the right choice, you know?”

Digg nods wisely as he sips his beer. “You’re handling it better than I did.”

“The army?” Tommy’s surprised that it was a difficult decision. Digg seems like a warrior, a soldier through and through. But maybe it was the war that changed it.

“No. Oliver,” the man elaborated. “My dad was a soldier. Killed in Action. But Andy and I always wanted to follow in his footsteps.”

Tommy sits down for the story, taking a break from the ongoing packing.

“It was Oliver’s crusade that made me question everything.” John shrugs. “I joined to avenge my brother’s death and somewhere along the way I found purpose.” He takes another swig as he thinks it through. “I hope you find that in Riyadh.”

It’s a dangerous decision. Tommy’s aware of that. Terrorist attacks aren’t uncommon. He’s trading the US craziness for a global city in a more tumultuous situation. His life is on the line, but it feels right.

“How’re things in Starling?” He’s been avoiding any and all news aside from what Felicity tells him, or at least avoiding as much as possible. Some things it was hard to miss even half a continent away.

John shrugs. “Oliver’s back out on the streets, doing some real good. Felicity’s been pushing him. Between you and me, I think there’s something there.”

“So he’s not with Laurel?” That’s really what he wants to know, the question he can’t bring himself to actually investigate on his own.

“Your death did a number on her.”

He winces at the reminder. He’d assumed that in leaving, she and Oliver would get together for real. They would be serious. Tommy had months to mentally prepare for that eventuality. “I just thought...”

John shrugs it off. “I think he still cares about her, but he also realized they’re toxic to each other.” His wise brown eyes meet Tommy’s gray ones. “Plus, she was in love with you.”

“I couldn’t be what she needs,” Tommy mutters darkly with a long draw of his drink. “As soon as she finds out about Oliver...”

“She blames the Arrow for your death,” John answers softly.

Tommy sighs. He walked away. He made this choice. It was the best option for him. He refused to let himself get dragged back into the disastrous love triangle. Oliver and Laurel had to figure out their will-they-won’t-they relationship on their own. His life here was blissfully drama-free.

“Not gonna lie, I haven’t missed it.”

John laughs. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. It’s a bit much.”

They drink their beers in silence for a couple moments.

“You’re going to do well, Tommy.”

A sad smile lifts his lips. “It’s Connor now.”

Digg nods and lifts his glass in Tommy’s direction. “To Connor then.”

The glasses knock together and Tommy finds himself smiling at what lies ahead for him. The future feels wide open. He’ll be to define himself too far away from home to allow for any interference. He can grow into his own man, into Connor.

It’s what he needs.


	3. In the Middle of the Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor (Tommy)'s new job is far from uneventful.

_EEEEEE. EEEEEEE. EEEEEEE._

Connor fights against thick black smoke clogging the air, his lungs burning for just a breath of fresh air. The building rubble around him, the screams of the injured, it all heralds back to the Undertaking, when he was impaled by a bit of rebar. 

He shoves a block of concrete from his legs and stands slowly, surveying the damage around him. The ceiling of the hospital wing is cracked and crumbling, lights hanging by single wires and flickering. Patients and doctors alike stumble though the halls in search of somewhere more stable.

Connor bursts into motion as an elderly woman stumbles on a bit of concrete. He grabs her arm, ignoring the fresh warm blood that seeps from a cut on his side as he helps her to a more stable, undamaged part of the hospital.

Only after he’s ensured her safety does Connor examine the slice in his side. Warm, scarlet blood leaks from jagged edges and it needs to get stitched up before it gets infected, which would be the most disastrous consequence. He’s only been here a couple months, but it feels like years. It’s scary to say that he’s gotten used to a certain level of violence. He knows how to act under pressure.

But this?

He doesn’t know if he can handle this.

Everyone is racing around, caring for the severely injured, setting up trauma stations, separating people based on their chances of survival.

“Dr. Rhodes?” He glances up at Shabanu, one of the newer nurses. She points at his side with a shaking hand. “You’re hurt.”

“Yeah,” he mutters like it’s not the most obvious thing ever. He grits his teeth. There are people hurt worse, people he can help. He just has to get himself stitched up first. He glances around and his gaze zeroes in on Shabanu. “Can you sew me up?”

Cautiously she opens a suture kit nearby and presses a tentative hand to his side. Taking a deep breath, she lifts the needle to his side. The point presses slightly into his skin, but not hard enough to push through.

“You need some anesthetic,” she announces, pulling back swiftly as she turns  from his side.

“It’s fine,” Connor mutters. “I’ve got it.”

He snags the needle from her and takes a deep bracing breath before forcing the needle through his skin. He grits his teeth, but it actually doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. 

“Allah, I’m going to be sick,” Shabanu mutters turning away.

Connor agrees. Stitching someone else up is nothing like pushing a needle through his own skin, but he keeps moving, keeps stitching. Ten feet away a girl is screaming for her mother and there are another ten shouts and cries.

They can use every hand on deck. 

He affixes the last stitch, and flushes the area with water Shabanu holds out. She presses a bandage to his side, shaking her head at him.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she mutters.

“Come on. There are people to save.” He pushes off the wall despite her protests that he should probably rest.

He’s running on adrenaline and he’s going to save as many people as possible.

...

When he finally gets off shift, after they realized he’s been on duty for thirty-six hours with only catnaps, the couch seems as good a place to sleep as his bed. Hell, even the floor would feel like a cloud given how exhausted he is. 

He stumbles into the bathroom, turning on the shower to wash off all the blood. He learned the hard way it was not a good idea to just collapse into bed after a rough shift. It’s much harder to wash blood out of sheets.

Connor yanks off his shirt and checks out the stitches on his side. They’re clean, just like his richer patients pay for. There shouldn’t even be much of a scar. Not bad for his first time stitching himself up.

He steps under the water, watching red slide down the drain. The warm water seeps into his muscles, relieving the tension of the day slowly before he steps away, making sure to wash the last evidence of today from his skin. He’d seen more trauma and pain today than he had for the past few months.

As he grabs pajamas, he hears his phone ring from across the room. He groans and stares up at the ceiling. It feels like a monumental feat to walk the ten feet to the glowing phone screen. The call ends and he releases a sigh of relief as he drops onto the comfortable mattress.

Then it starts ringing again, the obnoxious, definitely-not-his ringtone letting him know exactly who was on the other side. Although why in the world she would make his ringtone Hannah Montana, he had no idea.

But Felicity’s persistent enough that she’s not going to stop until he answers the phone, so he forces his legs to carry him to the phone and back to bed as he blindly lifts the phone to his ear.

“Yeah,” he mutters, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“ _Oh, thank God you’re okay! I got a news alert. I’ve been trying to call you for hours! I booked a plane ticket_.”

“Woah, Felicity, isn’t it like 4am there?”

“ _Oh, no. Actually, we’re in Russia right now_.”

“Russia?”

“ _Yeah, I just couldn’t think of a valid reason to get Oliver to change course to Riaydh, especially not with Isabitch along for the ride_.”

“I’m fine, Felicity.” He cuts her off calmly. “I just got off shift and I would _love_ to sleep right now. You don’t have to come. I’m fine.”

“ _That’s what I tried to tell her,_ ” Digg says from the other end of the line. “ _Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get thrown into a Russian prison._ ”

Connor frowns. “What?” Then he shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to know. Good luck with that. I, on the other hand, am going to get some well-deserved sleep. I’ll call you when I have the chance.”

He doesn’t wait for their “goodbye” before dropping the phone on the mattress. He’s asleep before his head hits the pillow.


	4. A Drunk Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and Connor Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Melsanfo for the prompt that sparked this chapter! I hope you enjoy!

**A Drunk Conversation**

“Hey, Felicity, is this a bad time?” Connor can hear noise in the background and her hello was slurred. He shifts the phone to his other ear as he rifles through his mail.

“ _Bad time? Why would it be a bad time? It’s not like I’m sitting in the dark, drinking a bottle of wine by myself, and watching Netflix. Because that would be cause for concern._ ”

He drops the mail on the counter. “Are you sitting in the dark watching Netflix and drinking wine?”

“ _Noooooo,_ ” but the protest is weak. “ _Why would I do that? It’s not like I just lost one of my best friends. And of course, the idiot goes running straight into the arms of another woman. Why is it that no one ever picks me?_ ”

So that’s what this is about: Oliver.

Connor drops onto the couch, opening the box of take out. This is going to take longer than he thought. “What happened?”

A sigh that sounds almost like a sob echoes across the phone line. “ _I told him something, something that hurt him. She said I would lose him, and I did_.”

Each dry sob she takes is a punch in the gut. It’s like she’s trying not to get emotional. He’s familiar with the feeling. He knows how it feels to be on the outside of the Oliver/Laurel whirlwind. This was why he had to walk away.

“He’s an idiot. You said it yourself.” He stabs a fork into his food. “You deserve better.”

She laughs. “ _Do I?_ ”

“Of course you do,” he says into the phone. “You deserve someone who loves you.”

“ _Then why does everyone I love always leave?_ ”

Connor closes his eyes against the familiar emotions assaulting him. His mother, his father...he’s lost people too. He’s also had to watch the woman he loved go through a tumultuous relationship with his best friend. He lost Oliver for five years.

“Felicity,” he whispers, “I’ve been there. Laurel and Oliver...they’re destructive and you don’t want to get between them.”

“ _Laurel_?” There’s a high pitch laugh that morphs into a snort. “ _She burned that bridge. I’m talking about Sara. And Isabitch! I mean, seriously, he sleeps with_ her _but doesn’t look twice at me? What is_ wrong _with me?_ ”

“Sara?”

“ _Sara Lance_ ,” she declares in an off-hand voice. “ _She’s not dead, obviously. In fact, guess who else is a vigilante! What the hell did they do on that island? No. I don’t know that I want the answer to that question._ ”

He frowns. “Damn.” Apparently Oliver hasn’t changed all that much. “I’m sorry, Lis.”

“ _Don’t be. I brought this on myself. I knew he was emotionally stunted and I still got in too deep. And it’s not like I’m really that upset. I didn’t really stand a chance. It’s not like I’m his type_.”

“Felicity, if he can’t see the amazing woman in front of him, he’s the blind one.” And if he was there to knock some sense into Oliver, he would.

“ _You should have heard him after Isabitch: ‘I just don’t think I could be with someone I could truly care about.’ What the hell does that even mean?_ ”

There’s too much emotion in her voice, so much raw feeling. Plus, those words...she certainly means something to Oliver even if he’s pushing Felicity away. Connor sighs. “Felicity, are you sober enough to video chat?”

He needs eye contact for this talk.

She snorts. “ _What kind of question is that_? _I could operate a computer in my sleep. I could hack a federal database right now. Not that I would ever do that. Nope. Not me. Answer my call_.”

Connor chuckles as he flips his laptop open unsurprised as the video chat pops up without him hitting a single button. Felicity pops up in all her glory. Hair sticks up in all directions from the messy bun perched on the top of her head. She’s wearing an oversized MIT sweatshirt and there’s a large glass of red wine in her hand.

“ _What took you so long_?”

He hangs up the phone and shoots her an exasperated look. “I’m sorry. You’re impatient when you’re drunk.”

” _You’re the one who wanted to talk._ ”

“I wanted to see your face when you explained what happened.”

She shrugs. “ _Moira told me not to tell him, said she saw the way I looked at him and that telling him would mean I lose him. And she was right._ ” Felicity worries her lower lip between her teeth. “ _I don’t regret it. I mean, it was the right thing to do, but why do I feel so terrible_?”

“Would it help to tell me what exactly happened?”

“ _No. No, it doesn’t involve...Oh_.” Her eyes pop open in shock as she stares at him, her mouth falling open. “ _Oh. Oh god. It does._ ”

He frowns. “What does it have to do with me?”

She places the wine glass on the table, sobriety returning to her glassy eyes. “ _Last year, I was looking into some money missing from Queen Consolidated. I found an account. There was some money moved around._ ” She shakes her head. “ _Long story short: I found out something._ ”

She sits there for a long time in silence, staring at him. He can feel her eyes assessing him, and he wonders what exactly he’s in for with this reveal. “Felicity, you can tell me.”

“ _It’s...Thea._ ”

He raises his eyebrows. “Thea?”

Felicity’s nervous, playing with the edge of her sweatshirt and shifting.

“What is it?” He asks, pushing her. “Felicity.”

“ _Thea Queen...is your half-sister_.”

He blinks. “What?” That’s not possible. He knows it’s not. That would mean his father and Moira...that would be...that would mean...

No. He can’t believe his father would do something like that. Not so soon after his mother’s death. There’s no way.

“ _Tommy..._ ”

He shakes his head. Almost every cell in his body resists the new information, screaming against the idea of it. No. It can’t be happening.

But there’s a small voice in the back of his mind, a voice that knows his father always had a soft spot for Moira, a little voice that told him in no uncertain terms that Malcolm had undoubtedly had a soft spot for Moira.

“ _I’m sorry, Tommy. I didn’t mean to just spring that on you-_ “

A deep breath inflates his lungs as his eyes jerk back to the computer screen. “Moira confirmed it, didn’t she?”

“ _In not so many words_ ,” she whispers.

He closes his eyes and nods, breathing deeply through his nose. Moira wouldn’t deny it. She would lash out though, if it was true. And his gut is telling him it is. “I’ll catch the next flight back home.”

“ _What? No. Tommy, they haven’t told Thea. She doesn’t know, which is really just going to blow up in their faces. What is it with Queens and secrets_?”

Connor runs a hand through his hair. It’s grown out since he left Starling. He really needs a good haircut. “I’m owed some time off. It’s about time I head back there anyway.”

“ _Tommy..._ ”

“I don’t have to tell her anything.” He takes a deep breath. “Hell, I might not talk to anybody at all.”

“ _You said you needed some space. You wanted time away_ ,” Felicity whispers, scooting closer to the computer screen. “ _Are you sure_?”

He’s not exactly excited to be going home. This new information though...it just feels right. Maybe going home to deal with a new relative will finally make some pieces fit together. It’s something he needs to do. He needs to at least see them.

“Can I crash with you?”

Felicity bobs her head. “ _Of course. I’ll let Digg know._ ”

“Good.” He nods to himself. He’s still trying to absorb the new information. “I’ll see you in a day or two.”

“ _Uh-huh_.”

“Oh, and Felicity?” Her blue eyes are wide and vulnerable even through the computer screen. But there’s hope there and he can’t help but smile at her. “There’s some guy out there who is going to love you just like you are. And if Oliver’s too stubborn to pull his head out of his ass to admit it, it’s his loss.”

_“Well the last guy who kissed me ended up in a coma, so I’m not holding my breath_.”

“Felicity.” He cuts her off, wishing her were there in person to stare directly into her eyes, to hold her hand and tell her exactly how awesome she was. But over video chat will have to suffice for now. “You are an amazing woman. You have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. You put others before yourself. You’re crazy smart. And so beautiful.”

“ _I’m not drunk and bemoaning my pitiful life anymore_.”

He laughs. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

Her cheeks are a faint pink as she shakes her head. “ _I’m not really upset that he’s sleeping with Sara. I just...I want him to be happy._ ”

“Tell you what,” Tommy responds. “When I’m visiting, I will be your wingman. You and me, we’ll paint the town.”

Her smile is bright and infectious. “ _Kind of hard to do that when the world thinks you’re dead._ ”

He shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.” And he will. It would be worth the world finding out Thomas Merlyn is alive just so long as she keeps smiling like that.


	5. Back in Starling

_“6am flight from Tokyo. Pick up your baggage at Carousel 8.”_

Connor hikes his carry-on bag higher up on his shoulder, walking past Baggage Claim and the yawning passengers who accompanied him on the last leg of his journey. The sun is just starting to rise, dying the whole world a bright pink.

He spots Felicity leaning against a pillar, her eyes closed and for a moment he thinks she might be actually sleeping. Then she lifts her phone to her ear and Tommy feels his phone come to life in his pocket.

John spots him and nods, but Connor still lifts the phone to his ear.

“What happened to you, Liss? You look dead to the world.”

She groans loudly into the phone and he can hear her even without device pinned to his ear.

“Please don’t remind me. The drugs Digg gave me are giving me a hangover.”

Connor frowns as he ends the call. She still hasn’t noticed him so it’s not surprising she jumps when he says “Drugs?” right behind her.

“Don’t do that!” Felicity reproaches, slapping him in the arm for emphasis. “Between you, Digg, Oliver, and Sara, these surprises are taking years off my life.”

He chuckles and pulls her into a hug and she only puts up token resistance. “I missed you, Liss.” He turns to the older man. “You too, Digg.” They exchange manly pats on the back as he releases Liss. And then he steps back to get a good look at them.

Felicity looks tired, with bags under pain-filled eyes. John just looks concerned and keeps glancing sideways at Felicity.  

“So what drugs are you on that gave you a hangover?”

She snorted. “Definitely not aspirins.” She accompanies it with a glare at John.

“Oxycodon,” John supplies with a grimace.

Connor raises an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know how you got your hands on those meds?”

John shrugs noncommittally as the trio starts to walk outside.

He frowns. “Why did you need it?” His trained eyes skim her figure. She’s not limping or hunched over. She’s not dressed in her usual professional attire, but that’s not noteworthy considering it’s the weekend.

Felicity’s hand rises to her shoulder, her nose scrunching up, but she doesn’t answer the question. Connor turns to John.

“She got shot,” the bodyguard admits with a grimace. “Took a bullet for Sara.”

He frowns, zeroing in on the spot where she cups her shoulder. “Are you okay? Do you need me to take a look at it? Are you still in pain?” Connor gently pulls her aside as they approach a sleek black town car. “Let me take a look.”

“I’m fine. Sara patched me up.”

Connor snorts. “Why don’t you let a certified surgeon take a look?”

Felicity mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t quite catch as he pushes the jacket off her shoulder. She adds a little louder, “Digg already checked it this morning. _Early_ this morning. Why did you have to get in so early? All I want to do is sleep!”

He chuckles as he peels back the white bandage over wound. “It’s crude, but it works.” He probes the area lightly, watching her reactions.

“Thanks for your approval, Dr. Merlyn,” Felicity huffs, pulling her sleeve back up.

“It’s Rhodes,” Connor corrects gently.

Felicity purses her lips and contemplates him, tilting her head to the side. “I still like Dr. Merlyn.”

He laughs and pulls her in for another hug. “I really did miss you, Liss.”

“I missed you, too, Connor,” she whispers back.

It feels good to be home.

...

“Big Belly Burger? Are you sure?” Felicity frowns as Connor stops the car in front of the burger joint. “What if someone recognizes you?”

He leans down to take a look at the diner. “Laurel’s not a fan of fast food.”

“And Oliver?”

Connor throws the car into park and shoots her a charming smile. “If he sees us, he sees us.”

Felicity rolls her eyes as she follows him out of the car. “You really have no idea how he’s going to react to seeing you alive, do you?”

“He’ll probably freak out, but I’m not going to spend my whole time here lurking. Besides, I’ve changed. I’ve got stubble now.”

She laughs at him as he holds the door open and the aroma of frying beef and French fries wafts out the door. It’s been far too long since he’s had one of their delicious burgers and even if Oliver finds them, he won’t regret it.

“You look good. Riyadh treating you well?” She slides into a booth and waves at a waitress.

Connor can’t help but look around covertly to see if anyone’s staring at him. “It’s good. Almost as dramatic as it was here around May. I’ve learned a lot in a short amount of time.”

Felicity makes a face. “That sounds terrible.”

He laughs. “With what you do every night, _that_ sounds horrible?”

“Yeah. I mean, we deal with violence on the streets, but nothing as big as the Undertaking.” Felicity pauses as a waitress comes over to take their orders and Connor lets his eyes drift around the joint.

It’s different seeing the place now. He told Felicity Laurel would go here, but honestly it wasn’t one of his favorite restaurants either. He just really needs a cheeseburger and Big Belly had the best in the city. When he lived in Starling, he usually preferred swankier restaurants, all the better to woo beautiful women.

Then he started working seriously, and food-on-the-go became a daily staple. He learned the best food trucks and stands around the hospital. He felt like a part of the city, and he wouldn’t change it.

“How has the fallout been?” He asks quietly, curious against his better judgment. He left so he wouldn’t have to face the fallout of his father’s crimes. “I know it was bad in September and driving through the city, it still looks run down.”

Felicity leans back into the booth. “Of course. They’re still rebuilding. Gangs had gotten really bad, but we’re doing what we can to clean up the streets one bad guy at a time. Housing is being funded by what’s left of Merlyn Global and all that. Businesses are coming back. Thea’s got Verdant running, better than you or Oliver ever did.”

He chuckles at that one. “Thea? An eighteen year old girl runs a nightclub?”

“I know,” Felicity laughs. “I was skeptical at first too, but it turns out that she’s really good at it.”

“You know what? Let’s check out the club tonight. It’ll be nice to see it from the outside. And I can...” Connor takes a deep breath, “I can check on my sister.”

Not words he thought he would ever be using. He rubs his hand over the back of his neck as he grimaces. It still feels weird just to say that.

“Of course.” Felicity immediately softens at the mention of Thea, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Verdant. Tonight. But now, let’s eat!”

Connor’s laugh bubbles up naturally and he shakes his head as the waitress slides their orders across the table. It feels good, natural to be here, to be back laughing with a good friend. This was exactly the break he needed from his hectic life.

“So, Felicity, how did you destroy the latest coffee maker?”

...


	6. Talking to a Lance (or Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while...and this chapter is only partially edited, but I hope you like it!

He should be more worried about being caught as he slips through the back door of his former club. More than likely, he knows all the employees, and there are going to be hundreds of people who could recognize him. Felicity tried to force him to wear glasses, but that was a little too comic-book for him.

Besides, who wears glasses to a club?

At the end of the long hallway, Connor spots a bombshell leaning against the wall, her back a criss-cross of fabric before it drapes over her ass. And a magnificent ass it is, he reflects as he walks up next to her, his hand settling on the warm skin of her bare back.

“Smoak, I almost didn’t recognize you,” he says, leaning down to talk directly into her ear.

She starts at the contact, but relaxes into his hand and smiles that brilliant smile up at him. That smile...it does things to Connor’s insides. It reminds him that he can feel something, reminds him how exhilarating it is to have a crush smile at him. His heart races just a little and he realizes that he could really feel something for the beautiful woman in front of him.

“Is that your way of saying a clean-up nice?” She laughs.

He grins, shaking off his crush. “You look gorgeous.”

“You don’t look to bad yourself.” She does her best to wink at him, but it comes out a little awkward and forced, drawing another laugh from Connor. She bounces happily on the balls of her feet like that was whole reason for her act.  “So what do you say we go get some drinks, and say hello to a certain brunette?”

He follows on her tail, throwing a few glares at the men shooting her sleazy looks. Then he spots her, his little sister. God, he has a little sister. It hits him in stunning reality again: _a little sister_. And it shouldn’t be this weird. He’s always been there for her like she’s his own blood. It shouldn’t be this mind-altering to realize they’re actually related.

And yet, it’s terrifying.

He has a baby sister. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have let her get away with half the things she tried. He would have put a hard stop to the drugs, for one thing. Or he likes to think that’s what he would have done.

Maybe he’s better in hindsight.

Connor lands at the end of the bar beside Felicity, staring down the way at Thea laughing with a young man by the door to the store room. She looks happy, unburdened, and it’s a weight off his chest.

“Who’s the guy?” He asks Felicity.

She grins. “Her boyfriend, Roy. He’s a good kid.”

He glances sideways at the tone in her voice. “You know him?”

“He works with us,” she fills in. “Oliver’s been training him. He’s...” She takes a deep breath. “There’s a group kidnapping kids and dosing them with a superpower drug that drives people nuts with rage. Roy was hit. Oliver’s trying to train him, trying to save him.”

Connor raises an eyebrow. “And Oliver’s okay with him dating his little sister?”

Felicity snorts. “Yeah, right. Oliver okay with any boy around his sister. That’s funny.”

He knows he would have been the cool older brother. Oliver’s the party pooper.

But that doesn’t mean he trusts Roy with Thea.

“Hey, gorgeous! What can I get for you?”

Connor blinks, attention latching on to the blonde woman behind the bar. He recognizes her blonde hair first. It takes another second for her eyes to meet his. They’re dark, world-weary where they used to be free and light, but it’s still the same Sara Lance.

Her eyes widen in surprise, her mouth falling open. “I...I thought...”

“Connor Rhodes,” he says, holding his hand out over the counter.

Her surprise disappears and she nods in understanding. “Sara Lance. Let me guess: old fashioned? And red wine?”

“You remembered.” He grins. “You’re looking pretty good.”

Sara snorts as she passes over the red wine. “You’re one to talk.” She glances between them. “So Ollie and Laurel don’t know about this?”

Felicity snorts. “Digg and I are the only ones that know.”

“So where’ve you been, Rhodes, was it? Anywhere interesting?”

Connor grins. “Are we going to exchange stories?”

“You don’t want to hear any of mine,” Sara responds, handing him his drink.

He nods in understanding. Six years away God knows where can’t have been easy for her. “I’ve spent the last several months in Saudi Arabia, working in a hospital.”

“A hospital?” Sara asks with a frown.

“He’s a doctor,” Felicity adds. 

“Really?” Sara leans back with a grin. “I didn’t peg you as the brains.”

“And that’s what you get for underestimating me, Lance.” He pauses, realizing she just spoke in Arabic and he answered in the same tongue. He shakes his head at her smirk. “One day, I just might save your life.”

Sara pauses and then lifts a shot glass in salute. She kicks it back before moving down the line to help a couple other customers. She’s more serious than Connor remembers, but it suits her now. She’s in control of herself in a way she never was six years ago.

They’ve all changed. Hell, everyone seems different now than they were a year ago. He takes another contemplative sip of his drink before he drops it on the counter and turns to Felicity. He wasn’t sure about his when he made the decision to come home, he wasn’t even sure about it until this moment. But stating it out loud, it feels right:

“I want to see Laurel.”

...

“I feel like a stalker.”

Connor glances over at Felicity in the driver’s seat of her mini cooper. “I told you you didn’t have to come with me.”

Felicity slouches into the seat and lifts her cup of steaming coffee to her nose. “Well, I didn’t want to leave you alone. What kind of host would I be if I did that?”

He chuckles, “the kind that doesn’t feel like a stalker.”

“I had a stalker once, you know,” Felicity babbles, filling the silence like she normally does, “A lacrosse player my freshman year of college, which was really creepy when you consider I was fourteen.”

“Really? Fourteen?”

“Genius, remember?” She shoots back with a smirk. “I graduated MIT with a masters at 19.”

“Well, now my medical career doesn’t seem so impressive.” He grins at her, making sure she knew he wasn’t serious. Then he frowns, “Why did you take a job in the QC IT department?”

She shrugs, lost in thought, eyes focused outside the car on a flickering streetlight. “I...ran into some trouble before I graduated. It seemed better to keep a low profile.”

He frowns. “What kind of trouble?”

Felicity shakes her head. “I don’t like to talk about it. But let’s just say Oliver’s not the only one who could land on a wanted list. I mean, I didn’t kill anyone or anything, but because of what I did, what I created, someone died. And until I met Oliver, I hadn’t been able to trust that part of me again.”

Connor frowns and twists to look at her. “So the hacking thing...that’s what you used to do?”

She nods, turning back to him. “Yeah, something like that.” Then she forces a laugh. “But I don’t mean to bring you down. We don’t need to talk about that right now. There are other things we could be talking about! Like...” She casts around for a topic and Connor takes mercy on her, aware of her desire to not talk about what happened to her.

“Like how cute puppies are?”

“Exactly!” She exclaims excitedly as her phone lights up on the dashboard.  

Connor chuckles as she looks at the phone, deflating. He glances back at Laurel’s apartment and reaches for the keys in the ignition. “We’re headed back to the club, aren’t we?”

“No. Just me,” Felicity answers grabbing her bag from the floor of the car. “Digg’s coming to pick me up. No Arrow business tonight, but we need to run a couple more tests on Roy. You’re welcome to join us, if you want.”

Connor’s eyes linger back to the building. He needs this. He needs the closure. He doesn’t know if he’s going to talk to her or what, but he also knows if he doesn’t do this now, it’s never going to happen. “I think I’m good here.”

Felicity smiles and pats him on the leg. “I thought so. Don’t freak her out too much, okay?”

He chuckles. “No promises.”

“She’s going to be happy to see you.”

Connor turns back to the building, the smile falling of his face. “We’ll see.”

A car pulls behind them. The headlights glare off the rearview window and directly into Connor’s eye. He squints against the harsh light and glances back out the side window.

“Digg’s here,” Felicity announces. She collects her various devices and leans over to press a kiss to Connor’s cheek. “Good luck with Laurel!”

He makes a non-committal noise as she leaves the car, his mind already in Laurel’s apartment. Step by step, he goes through the conversation as it might happen, only interrupted in his musings by a figure stumbling down the street.

At first, Connor doesn’t pay attention, just notes the staggered, angry walk of a drunk stumbling home. He dismisses the figure until he sees her start to climb the steps to Laurel’s building. She slips on the top step and collapses onto the landing, the heels held in her hand falling down the stairs. Slurred laughter reaches Connor’s ears, familiar laughter, if a little more heavy with liquor than he remembers.

Laurel had always been the more responsible drinker between the two of them. She wouldn’t get drunk unless she knew someone was watching out for her. More often than not she had been the designated driver for him. He drank to get rid of the pain of a difficult childhood, a cry for attention from an absent father.

Connor climbs from the car and crosses the street. Laurel doesn’t notice him in her stupor, not even as he picks up her heels from the lower steps. She finally acknowledges him as he squats in front of her on the top step.

“You look like you could use some help.”

“’m fine...”

As if her slurred speech wasn’t enough to convince him, Connor tilts her head up by her chin and stares into her glazed eyes. He ignores the smell of alcohol rolling off her in waves. With a sigh, he throws one of her useless arms over his shoulder and wraps a hand around her waist.

“Come on. We’re going to stand up now. I need you to walk with me.”

“I don’ need your help,” Laurel protests as she sways into him as she get to her feet, only to look down. “What happen’d to my shoes?”

Connor holds them out to her. Over her cries of delight he extracts her keys from her clutch and lets them into the building. She leans into him, stumbling as much as walking as they make their way to the elevator.

“You’re m’ knight in shining armor.” Laurel smiles sloppily at him as the doors close and the elevator starts to rise. “My hero.”

He stares down at her hand as it strokes his chest, startled by the lack of feeling as his ex flirts with him. No. That’s not right. He’s feeling _something_ , it’s just not the longing and desire he expected. It’s almost been a year and he still loves her, still feels that undeniable pull in her direction, but it’s dulled.

Suddenly, Laurel’s face contorts and tears well in her eyes. She buries her head in his chest. “But you’re dead! I’m so sorry, Tommy! It didn’t mean anything! I swear! I never meant to sleep with Oliver, but you were pushing me away and I was scared and I love you!”

Connor holds her as she cries into his shirt. Her words devolve into nonsensical murmurs as the elevator stops at her floor. Seeing little choice, Connor bent and picked Laurel up under the knees in a bridal carry to walk them down the hall into her apartment.

“You’re strong.” Laurel’s words, spoken into his neck, at one time would have had him grinning and teasing her. He would have puffed up in pride.  

Maybe it’s better that he saw her this way. She’s still healing from his death, from Tommy’s death. And he’s not Tommy anymore. He’s Connor. He no longer goes out drinking for fun. He has a steady job, a job that puts him in charge of lives. He’s responsible in a way he never was as Tommy.

He’s dedicated his life to saving lives.

And he’s made the choice to love himself as he is, which doesn’t mean going back to the woman who will always be in love with his best friend. He deserves someone who loves him for him. He’ll always care about Laurel, but Tommy died in that building. His frivolous nature and carefree attitude died with the Undertaking.

He needs to say goodbye to Laurel, for his own closure and hers.

So maybe it is better that she’s drunk, and she’ll think this is all a dream.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Connor says into her hair as he unlocks the door.

Laurel giggles as her arms tighten around his neck and her breath fans his cheek. “Well, if you insist.”

He dodges Laurel’s sloppy kiss by suddenly dropping her onto her bed. She bursts into tears as she ends up sprawled on the bed.

“But, of course, you can’t kiss me. You’re not real. You’re not here. You can’t be here because you’re dead. I killed you. You’re dead because of me.” Laurel curls into a ball and buries her head in the blankets as her body shakes with sobs. “Tommy!”

Connor sighs and sits beside her on the bed, stroking her hair as she struggles to control her breathing, struggles to regain her composure. Her cries dissolve into incoherent sobs and whispered words too soft for him to hear.

Unwillingly, Connor’s eyes stray to the window facing the street, the same one that gave him the view of Oliver and Laurel together and he feels that familiar pang of betrayal. But it doesn’t hurt like it used to.

“I don’t blame you,” he finally says. His eyes are still focused on the window and the lights of the city outside. He can’t turn his gaze to the sobbing woman beside him. He doesn’t know if she’s listening or not, but the words need to come out. “I loved you, and a part of me will always love you, but you and Ollie...”

In his mind, Connor’s back in high school, smiling shyly at his lab partner before she gets swept away by his best friend. He’d been admittedly fine with it, thinking it was a fling. But they kept getting sucked back together, pulling everyone into their insane vortex.

“You and Ollie always fell back together. Like you knew there was something good at your fingertips but you could never fully grasp it.” He sighs, playing with a strand of Laurel’s silky hair. Her sobs have died down, only the occasional sniffle escaping her now.

“We could have been good together, you know,” he whispers, a confession he never thought to share. “I loved you with everything I was, but part of you was always in love with Oliver. To be honest, I didn’t get it. I still don’t. He doesn’t love you, doesn’t treat you like you deserve to be treated and yet you love him. You still do.”

He sighs. “Has he even looked at you since the Undertaking?”

Laurel gives a loud snort and Connor finally glances down at her figure. She fell asleep on him. From her level of inebriation, he’s not that surprised, but still. He wishes she could have gotten something from their conversation.

Truthfully, he does believe they could have made it. They could have fallen in love, gotten married, maybe had kids. But Ollie was a wall between them. He loved his best friend...former best friend? He loved Ollie like a brother. But Laurel? Laurel had deserved so much more from Oliver. He just hadn’t been ready to give it.

If you asked Connor, Laurel wasn’t in love with Ollie, but with her idealized version of _who_ he could be.

She was just blind to the fact that Oliver would never be that guy _for her_.

And Thomas Merlyn got his heart crushed in the process.

Connor Rhodes would make sure he never got involved with a woman in love with someone else ever again.

Not bothering to be quiet since he knows he couldn’t wake her if he tried, Connor moves around the room. He grabs Laurel a glass of water and some aspirin to place on her night stand, and tucks her in to bed. She snuggles into the warmth of the blanket, but otherwise shows no reaction to his presence.

He lowers himself to the bed next to her as he picks up the picture on the night stand. It’s the two of them, smiling and laughing, a little too close for anyone to believe that they’re only friends. Keeping it next to her bed can’t be causing her anything other than misery. He places it facedown on the night stand and wonders if he’s doing the wrong thing for the first time that night.

He loved Laurel, once upon a time. He spent about half his life in love with her, willing to do anything to ensure her happiness. Seeing her in pain like this, it tears at his insides like a tiger clawing for freedom.

The urge vanishes a moment later as a figure in black leather slips through the window. He meets Sara’s blue eyes through her black leather mask.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

He shrugs. “She won’t remember this in the morning.” He’d dealt with enough hangovers to know. As he stands, Connor grabs the picture from the night stand. She doesn’t need to torture herself like this. 

Sara nods, eyes lingering on the sprawled figure. “She needs help.”

“And she’ll get it,” he responds. “When she’s ready.”

Sara’s lips twist in a grimace, but she doesn’t say anything as Connor prepares to leave, turning out lights to let Laurel sleep in peace.

“That’s it? You’re leaving?”

Connor glances back at Laurel’s silhouette on the bed, remembering a time when he wouldn’t dream to leave her sleeping alone. He doesn’t feel that pull now. “I did what I came here to do.”

Walking away then hurts more than Connor thought it would, but he’s leaving a piece of his life behind. It’s no longer running away when everyone thinks he’s dead. This time he’s saying goodbye, to Laurel, to the city, to who he was. It’s painful.

And yet, once it’s done, Connor finds it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as he thought it would.


	7. A Booty Call and Blue Eyes

...

“FELICITY! FELICITY, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”

The arm flops down from Connor’s face and he turns to glare at the door of Felicity’s apartment. To his left the TV creates white noise. He’d turned it on shortly after returning from Laurel’s place, too preoccupied to actually pay attention to what channel he put it on.

He stares at the TV to drown out the incessant knocking, smirking when he realizes it’s a medical drama.

“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!”

Connor rolls his eyes. A quick roll forward and he’s standing upright, stretching his back. He’s gotten used to a surgeon’s hours, waking up at the smallest sound as if someone’s life might hang in the balance. To be fair, most times lives were in the balance. He’s a trauma surgeon.

In this case, there’s what appears to be a drunk man outside Felicity’s apartment.

“I can hear the TV! Come on. Talk to me, babe. You and I really had something!”

The clock reads 10pm. In Connor’s opinion it’s a little early to be booty-call drunk, but he’s not exactly one to judge. He picks up his phone and shoots Felicity a text:

_Break up with anyone recently?_

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. You meant the world to me. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I swear. You’re it for me. I promise to do better this time. I love you.”

The snort escapes him, bringing an actual smile to his face. _Really? A declaration of love?_

His phone buzzes and he lifts the phone to stare at the bright screen:

**_Felicity:_ ** _Tell Brad to buzz off. Remind him he’s the one who broke up with me._

**_Felicity:_ ** _Is he really out there?_

**_Felicity:_ ** _Can you get rid of him before I get back? Really not interested to deal with him rn._

Outside the door Felicity’s suitor – Brad – starts singing. It’s off-key and slurred, bearing almost no resemblance to the John Legend song at all. The things he does for friends.

Brad stumbles when Tommy whips the door open, falling forward and almost into Connor’s chest. He reeks beer and cheap liquor. His eyes are glazed and his smile overly happy as he slowly rights himself. The door takes far more of his weight than Brad’s legs do.

“Hello, beatifuuuu...You’re not Fliss...Fellll...Fi...Feliss...Flisty...”

“You were doing better when you were shouting,” Connor observes, crossing his arms over his chest. “At least then you could say her name.”

Brad takes a swig from a bottle in his hand, a bottle wrapped in a paper bag. He frowns at Connor. He’s obviously trying to bumble his way through what to do now. “D’you live here?”

“I think it’s time for you to go home.”

“So, Lisssss...s’not here?”

Connor turns the man around by his shoulders, pointing him back down the hall toward the outside. “You got to give this up, buddy. You broke up with her. She’s not interested.”

“It wasa mistake,” Brad says as he stumbles along. “She wassso pretty...ann I made a misshtake.”

“One guy to another, I don’t think that’s what she’ll want to hear. And honestly, I don’t think you should say that to her.”

“She’s the love of my life,” Brad declares. “We’re meant to be!”

“And I might believe you if you weren’t completely shitfaced right now. So why don’t I call you a cab? You can go home and sleep it off. Doctor’s orders.”

He dials the number he knows by heart, the one he used whenever he got stranded during a night out. Sometimes Oliver left him at a club because he hooked up with someone or he was sneaking out of a girl’s house at three am. It’s a pleasant surprise when a voice answers from the other end with a pleasant:

“Allo?”

“Hey, I’m looking for Mike.”

“This is Mike.”

“You still driving a cab?”

“Depends who’s askin’.”

Connor smiles into the phone. “An old friend.”

“That would be impossible. Only _old friend_ I had is dead.” 

“Not as dead as the world thinks, Mike.”

“Merlyn? I thought you was as dead. You callin’ from beyond the grave now?”

Connor sighs at as Brad empties the content of his stomach into a bush. “I’m going by Rhodes now. And yeah, not as dead as you were lead to believe.”

“You in Witness Protection or something?”

He chuckles. “Something like that. Listen, I have someone who needs a ride. 24 Rigby.”

“Right. And taking you anywhere?”

Connor sits down on the stoop. “No. But they’ll be a huge tip in it for you. He’s pretty smashed.”

“Be there in 5.”

...

“Brad’s a real charmer, Smoak.”

Felicity groans as she throws her coat and bag on a chair and drops into the couch beside Connor, eyes already closed as if asleep. “Ugh. What did he say this time? I’m assuming the usual nonsense about love.”

Connor watches her with a raised eyebrow. “This happens a lot?”

Felicity meets his gaze under heavy eyelids. “We started dating while Oliver was away. When Oliver came back, he got it into his head that I liked him as more than a friend. His jealousy tore us apart. End of story.”

“Don’t you though?” Connor snorts. At her frown, he elaborates: “Like Oliver?”

Felicity shrugs. “Sure I like him. He’s gorgeous, but it’s like having a crush on a movie star: completely unattainable. You appreciate from afar. That’s it.”

“Oliver’s an idiot.” If he can’t see how wonderful Felicity is. Although Connor doubts that Oliver doesn’t know how amazing she is. The fact that he hasn’t slept with her backs up that fact. If she wasn’t important to him, if she didn’t matter, Oliver probably would have given in a long time ago. He’s seen how often Oliver calls and texts Felicity: he never called Tommy or Laurel that much when he was alive, before or after the Island.

“He’s got Sara now. Although, now they’re freaking out because some guy from the Island isn’t as dead as they thought. Seems like that’s the case with a lot of the people that were there.”

“In our lives, it seems like there’s a lot of people that don’t want to stay dead.” Tommy doesn’t miss the irony of the moment. 

Laughter bursts out of Felicity, bringing life to the sleepy room. “When Oliver finds out...” 

He grins. “I’ll just have to be extra dramatic when I reveal myself.”

Felicity’s laughter peters out to a mild chuckle. “So how did things go with Laurel?”

Connor sighs. “She was drunk. She probably won’t remember most of it in the morning.”

“I’m surprised you made it back here.”

“She passed out. Besides, that chapter of my life’s over.” If it wasn’t, he’d probably be drinking away his troubles right now. “With any luck, she’ll remember enough of our conversation to finally move on.”

“And have you?”

It’s a fair question. And before tonight – although he would have adamantly declared otherwise – he couldn’t admit that Laurel still held a place in his heart. “I think I have.”

Felicity shuffles sideways until her head lands on Connor’s shoulder and she snuggles into his side. His arm drapes around her shoulders, pulling her closer. He ducks his head to press a kiss to her temple.

“I’ve been thinking about coming back to the states. I’ve got to finish my residency and then take the Boards, but after that I’m thinking Chicago would be nice.”

She looks up at him. “Chicago?”

“I’ve got family there,” he answers quietly. “My mom was born there. I used to stay with my aunt and uncle when my dad disappeared for months at a time.”

“That’s good.”

Connor snorts. “My uncle’s just as bad as my father. Or I used to think so, until my father planned the mass murder of thousands of people.”

“You’re nothing like him, you know?”

Her blue eyes – wide with trust and love – pour into his soul. He wants to believe her, believe in this wonderful woman who believes in him so whole-heartedly. She’s always seen the best in everyone around her and that’s enticing.

“You need sleep,” he says to avoid the feelings her eyes stir in him. He’s had an emotional day and he doesn’t want her to get wrapped up in everything he’s already feeling. So he pushes her away instead of pulling her closer and makes sure she gets to sleep before slinking back to the couch and falling into a fitful sleep.

And if soulful blue eyes haunt his dreams, Connor’s not complaining.


	8. Good Morning Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up a little...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for language. 
> 
> I would just like to say, I have no idea what I'm doing, but this happened...I hope you like it...

...

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

For the second time in twenty four hours, Connor wakes to pounding on Felicity’s door. He stumbles on stiff joints toward Felicity’s bedroom. He just wants to get away from the noise. He’s supposed to be on vacation for Christ’s sake.

Instead of shaking her awake as he has originally intended, Connor surrenders to the overwhelming desire to shut his eyes. He falls dramatically on the bed beside Felicity and groans at the cloud of a bed he finds himself on.

After the couch, this is heaven.

“KANGAROOS!” Felicity screeches in alarm, sitting upright and wielding her phone like a weapon.

Connor opens one eye to stare at her over the blanket. “What?”

She blinks slowly, turning to look at Connor in dawning realization as her phone starts ringing in her hands.

Felicity lifts her phone to her ear as she glares half-heartedly at him.

Connor’s a little bit smug as he burrows into Felicity’s pillow. The bed really is magical right now. This is the last time he insists on being the gentleman and takes the couch. Nope. The bed is much better. Felicity’s tiny. They could totally share.

Completely platonically, of course.

Not that he would object one way or the other.

“You’re _here!_ ”

Connor groans as Felicity clubs him over the head with a pillow. All he wants to do is sleep. Is that too much to ask? “I’m trying to sleep here, woman!”

“Well, _Oliver’s_ here, so that’s not going to work,” she whisper growls at him as she repeatedly whacks him. “Wake up, you big lunk!”

Blindly he reaches out. He fumbles for a few seconds before he manages to successfully wrestle the pillow from Felicity’s hands. He tucks it under him so she can’t get it back, pleased it doesn’t require opening his eyes. 

“Hmmm...what? No. I’m not talking to anyone...oh, um...that was talking to my...goldfish?”

Goldfish?

Connor finally opens his eyes to stare at her in disbelief. And then immediately regrets the choice.

Felicity’s standing at the end of the bed, worrying her bottom lip as she listens to Oliver say something. Her hair is a riot of waves, jumbled around her head haphazardly. She stands there in short shorts decorated with what look to be cartoon pandas and an oversized MIT shirt that hangs off one shoulder. Her fingers pull at the ragged hem as she listens to Oliver.

Connor’s not unfamiliar with the urge flooding his mind right now: the urge to pull Felicity back into the bed and drag her attention away from the irksome phone call. Ex-best-friend or not, Connor will admit to being jealous another man has Felicity’s attention right now.

Which is ridiculous.

It’s not like they’re in any sort of relationship. They’re _friends._

He needs to get his hormones under control.

And he’s awake now, so no point trying to sleep. “What does he want?”

“You can’t just call and demand entrance to my apartment! How do you even know where I live?” Felicity ignores him, finally making her way to her front door.

Connor sits on the edge of the bed, balanced on a precipice of indecision.

He could walk down the hall right now and confront Oliver. He can hear his best friend now, lecturing Felicity on her personal safety and how she has to take better care of herself especially with someone named Slade out there. 

But going out there and yelling at Oliver to shut up and stop being so bull headed probably won’t help anything.

So he does the only thing he can think that will give the blonde a reprieve without revealing his secret:

He walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

Through the slightly open bathroom door, Connor hears the arguing die down and he grins. He slips his shirt over his head and sheds the rest of his clothes to hurried whispers. The door slams shut as the warm water slides down his body.

That worked better than he thought it would.

“UGH! He’s so ANNOYING!” Felicity says, bursting into the bathroom.

Connor freezes halfway through washing shampoo from his hair. “Uh, Felicity?”

“He just shows up here and _demands_ I let Digg guard me! Seriously!? What do I need a bodyguard for? I’m a nobody! The only reason people recognize me at work is because they think I’m sleeping with him! HA! As if!”

“Felicity.” Her pacing outside the thin material between them really is not helping with his libido. If anything, it’s making it worse. It would be so easy to grab her and yank her into the shower with him.

And it would definitely take her mind off his misogynistic ex-best friend.

“And as soon as he realized there was someone else here, he _freaked_. Hello! I’m a perfectly healthy woman in my twenties! Is it really that out there that I would spend the night with someone? We can’t all be models, but you know what? I can easily get a boyfriend. And you know what? I’m great in bed.”

“FELICITY!” Connor shouts, really not needing a more vivid depiction of exactly how she’s good in bed. Parts of his anatomy are already eager enough to find that out.

She falls silent.

He sucks it up and sticks his head around the curtain. The regret is instantaneous when he sees her chewing on her bottom lip and has to swallow a groan. It takes a moment for his words to come out in a near-normal voice. “As glad as I am to help...”

“Oh!” She jumps, her cheeks turning bright red. “Of course, you’re in the shower. Oh, God. This is so inappropriate. Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry! I’ll get out of your hair. I didn’t mean to give you a hard time while you were taking a shower.”

Yeah, that innuendo is not helping anything.

 “And I can’t believe I just said that. Not that my presence should make anything hard. At all. No...hardness...oh, god, why can’t I stop talking?”

Connor’s knuckles as he clutches the curtain and tries to think of the least attractive things he can.

“I just meant that it’s not like my beauty inspires fantasies. And now I’m done. And leaving. Right.”

“Trust me, Smoak, you inspire more fantasies than you realize.”

Shit.

He wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.

Felicity gapes at him before squeaking something that might pass for words at a lower octave. She leaves a smoke cloud behind her in her rush to disappear, closing the door firmly behind her.

Connor hits his head against the tile at his stupidity. Idiot. It’s like any control of his hormone he’d had deserted him. He was like a teenager with his crush. Fuck.

Looks like it’s a cold shower for him.

...


	9. A(n Awkward) Conversation...or Two...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, but IT'S BACK! And hopefully with more regular updates. *fingers crossed* Anyway, hope you enjoy!

**A(n Awkward) Conversation…or Two…**

“Tommy…”

He grimaces at Felicity’s nervous, unasked question. “Can we just forget about what happened? Please?” He’s embarrassed enough about the comments and the shower. It’s just a silly crush. He knows that. He shouldn’t have said something like that about fantasies.

Felicity laughs. “I was going to say the same thing, so it’s forgotten. Bagel?”

“No three course breakfast for your guest?” He teases as he grabs the cream cheese from the counter.

She snorts. “You don’t want to eat anything I bake, trust me. If I didn’t burn it, it would be inedible. That’s one of the few things I inherited from my mother.”

Connor grins. “Please, this is more than I usually get for breakfast. I live on what I can grab between shifts and coffee. I’m a surgical resident. I sleep on cots in hospital hallways. I live in a part of the world where I deal with terrorist attacks and patients who want stitches so small that they won’t have visible scars.”

“Seems a bit contradictory.”

“Tell me about it. But they’ve got some great food. Plus, my Arabic is getting pretty good. My accent is still pretty terrible, but I can communicate.” He’s proud of that much.

“Look at you, Mr. World Citizen.” Felicity teases, handing him a mug of coffee before she starts sipping her own. “Arabic, Spanish, any other languages I need to know about?”

“Nope. That’s it. I’ve picked up a couple phrases in a handful of different languages. Some French. Russian. Some Chinese. Japanese, but that was from watching Anime when I was younger.”

His words have the desired effect as Felicity giggles, the rest of the awkward tension dissipates. “And has that helped you at all?”

“Sure! I can mutter under my breath and call people idiots. What about you? Any other languages?”

“Spoken language or are you counting coding? Because I know a couple of those.” 

“There’s more than one?”

Felicity stares at him, scandalized. “And to think I called you a friend!”

Connor laughs. “That’s like me expecting you to know the different kinds of stitches.”

She purses her lips, reluctant to admit he has a point, which only has him laughing again. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

“I’m not the secret doctor.”

“No, just the city’s hidden hero.”

Her objection is quick and cold. “I’m not a hero.”

Connor shakes his head with a small smile. “Felicity, anyone who does what you do every night is a hero. You might work more than I do, and I work 100 hours a week.”

“Oliver and Digg are the real heroes. And Sara. And _you_. You save lives too, _Doctor_ Merlyn.”

He shakes his head. “It’s Rhodes, and yeah, we’re pretty heroic, aren’t we?”

Felicity grins at him. “And we don’t even play dress up in fancy leather.”

“But we’d look hella fine in it,” he says, holding his mug up in a toast.

Felicity clinks their mugs together. “Damn right. My ass looks fantastic in leather.”

Connor raises his eyebrows over his mug. Sure, he thought the same thing, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud.

“Please,” Felicity says offhandedly with a roll of her eyes. “I work hard for this ass. I know how to appreciate it. I might not have abs of steel or arms as big as a tree trunk, but my legs and my ass are drool-worthy.”

“Fantasy worthy,” Connor corrects without thinking. He winces at the stunned silence. “And we should pretend that doesn’t happen again.”

“At least someone other than me appreciates it,” Felicity responds, but her smile is more forced than it was a minute ago.

Connor grimaces. He used to have moves. He used to not get flustered around other women. It’s this thing with Laurel that’s getting inside his head. He’s finally ready to move on, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to jump into bed with the first available woman, especially one of his best friends.

Despite her protestations, he knows there’s something between her and Oliver. He’s not going to jump right between that, with all the complications it presents.

“How is everything? Oliver sounded…tense.”

Felicity scowls. “I don’t want to talk about Oliver.”

“He cares about you. Whatever happened freaked him out.” Connor scratches below his ear. He’s had enough time to think over Oliver’s case in the past year. “After losing me last year, he’s got to be paranoid about the safety of those he cares about.”

Her glare takes a couple years off his life. “I don’t see him trying to protect Digg or Sara. Or even Thea. I might not be able to fight like they can, but I refuse to be the weak link.”

“Oliver doesn’t view you as the weak link, he sees you as _his_ weakest link.” Connor purses his lips. “ _You_ are the person he’s most scared of losing. You might want to cut him a little slack.”

“I said, I didn’t want to talk about Oliver.”

“You did. I just figured I’d give you my insight into my best friend’s psyche.”

Felicity quietly sips her coffee, her brightly colored nails tapping out a rhythm on the side of the mug. “He’s sleeping with Sara…or they’re dating or whatever.”

“It’s not going to last.” Connor shakes his head. “Oliver’s a stubborn idiot already suppressing his feelings so I wouldn’t hold your breath, but he cares. More than he thinks he should. Like I said: an idiot.”

She doesn’t believe him. He can see that in her eyes, but they both drop the subject and finish their coffee in silence.

…

“So this threat is bad, huh?”

Digg glances sideways as Connor slides into the passenger seat of his car. He turns back up to the house. “Worse. Oliver hasn’t said much, but going down the rabbit hole, opening doors he shouldn’t to find Slade Wilson. It’s messing with his head. He says Slade’s going to take away anyone he ever loved. He’s barely hanging on.”

Connor follows his gaze to the door to Felicity’s apartment. “Is she in immediate danger?”

John sighs, placing his mug of hot chocolate into the cup holder. “No idea. Slade hasn’t seen them together.”

“Oliver’s not worried about you?”

Digg laughs. “Please. I’m pretty sure even Oliver doesn’t realize how much he cares about her. Truth be told, I’m worried too. If he’s going after the people Oliver’s close to…it’s no wonder he pushes away the people who really matter to him.”

“You think I can convince her to come visit me for a couple weeks?” He’s worried about her, about the danger she might be in.

“You think she’ll be safer in Riyadh?”

“Well, there won’t be a madman possibly trying to hunt her down.” That’s a plus in his book.

“If you think she’d agree to leave with all this going on. You’re crazy.”

Connor stares at the windshield, knowing that Digg has a point. Felicity won’t allow herself to get whisked away while her friends are in danger. She’s not wired like that.

“If I didn’t have to be back…” He doesn’t actually know _what_ he would do, but he wouldn’t let them face this alone. At the very least, he could stitch them back together when all was said and done. He’s training to be a trauma surgeon and you know what, he’s had a lot of hands-on training. He could be an asset.

“Don’t,” Digg says, taking a sip of the steaming hot chocolate. “You left Starling for a reason. Don’t forget that.”

Connor runs a hand over his jaw.

“Besides, it’s not like you can fight crime. You’re not a fighter. We’ve got this handled.”

He doesn’t like being pushed to the side. He’s been “handled” and taken care of, sidelined more times than he cares to admit. His father did it. Oliver did it. His father always just expected him to fall in line. He would act out, behave rashly, but despite that there was always the general assumption that one day he would be thrown into Merlyn Global and he would shape up.

And he had. He had given in to his father’s wishes when he and Oliver had their falling out. Now that medicine’s his life…he can’t imagine going back. It’s his own God complex. He can save lives with his skill, his knowledge. But he’s not done learning.

As much as he hates to admit it, John’s right. He needs to go back – to learn – before he can come back here and try to make a difference.

He sighs. “Looks like I’m going to need a ride to the airport then.”

…


	10. A World Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Kinda just happened instead of my Nanowrimo so I hope you like it.

**A World Away**  

The heavy punching bag swings from the ceiling as Connor lays into it. Punch after punch, hit after hit, one blow after another. The white tape on his knuckles doesn’t blunt the pain, making sure he feels every punch. He’s not normally physically violent. The most he’s ever done is punch a guy in bar fight or two.

But this is the first time he’s ever been so angry he _wanted_ to punch something.

News updates from Starling were still playing from his laptop at the other end of the room. Tales of horror, death, mayhem. It was worse than the Undertaking. There were men swarming the streets, men in orange and black masks, men whose primary goal appeared to be to hurt as many people as possible.

He left his friends in the middle of that shitshow.

The next blow lands hard, harder than it should, hard enough to bruise his hand through the tape.

“Shit.” He walks away from the bag, shaking his hand as if it could dissipate the pain. He can’t afford to damage his hand, not if he wants a surgical career.

Connor walks to the freezer and yanks out an icepack. He presses it to his knuckles and kicks the base of it in frustration. He wanted to be there. He wanted to make a difference. But he was too late, too far away.

He was in the middle of surgery when Thea was kidnapped. It’s a good thing he didn’t hear about it until afterwards. But that was when it hit home just how much he was giving up by walking away from Starling.

In walking away from Starling, he walked away from his family, his little sister. He wanted to walk away from the lies and twisted half-truths that surrounded his life, the hurt involved with Laurel and Oliver’s betrayal. And it had worked for a while.

Now he was questioning his decision to move half a world away.

He snags a water bottle with his uninjured hand, downing a healthy bit of water as he crosses the room to the laptop and drops into the chair. Shifting through the news stories, for some hint that his friends are safe, that everything’s alright.

There’s not much he can do except wait for Felicity or John to reach out.

It’s killing him.

…

Six hours later he gets the “we’re okay” text.

 _Six hours_.

That’s after the news has confirmed that the men attacking the city have been subdued, after there have been sightings of every member of Team Arrow. He’s already resigned himself to the beer in his hand and the crushing mass of all the bodies in the club he’s escaped to.

He thought the atmosphere would be soothing, a reminder of Verdant and home. Instead the masses of people just highlighted the people he was missing in his own life.

The next text is a jumble of words from Felicity, in which all he can completely understand is that they’re going back to Lian Yu, to the Island. It has something to do with the Bad Guy of the Year, but Tommy can’t quite follow Felicity’s logic when he’s pleasantly buzzed and heading towards drunk.

“A hot date stood you up too, huh?”

Connor takes a swig of his beer as he turns to his right, to a pair of warm brown eyes staring at him over a pink drink. He shakes his head and turns back to the bar. “Nope. Just homesick.”

“So you came to a club?”

He laughs loudly over the music. “I used to run a club like this.”

“Really?” She leans in close, her voice dropping into flirtatious territory. Her hand lands on his arm. “That’s fascinating. You must know all the best kept secrets.”

 _Yeah, that the neighborhood superhero lives in the basement_. Although, that’s probably not the case here. This is probably just a normal club. He hasn’t heard about any leather-dressed vigilantes in the street.

Tommy grins. “You don’t want to know what goes on in a club. It ruins the illusion.”

She snorts. “What? You know all the best make-out spots?”

“You don’t want to know half the things I’ve seen. We had a lost and found box full of women’s underwear.” He chuckles as he remembers going through the box.  

His phone lights up again.

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Popular!”

He chuckles, flipping the phone over. “They finally remembered they had to let me know they were still alive. You’d think even with international texting they would have remembered it sooner.”

Okay, so he’s a little bitter.

“But everyone’s alive, right? That’s what matters.”

Connor nods. “You’ve got a point, but I think I’ll let them wallow for a while.” He slips the phone into his pocket and turns his full charm on as he faces her head on. “Connor Rhodes.” He holds out his hand.

She takes his hand with a sultry smile. “Sidney.”

“No last name?” he asks with a teasing laugh.

“You’ve got to earn it.”

“In that case, we’re going to need another round.” Connor leans forward to flag down the barista, enjoying the light, bubbly feeling of flirting with a cute girl. This is going to be fun.

…

“THOMAS MERLYN, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”

He flinches at the loud noise and the pounding that is apparently not just in his head. He glances over at the girl sprawled out on the bed next to him.

“TOMMY! If you don’t answer now, so help me, I will call Oliver and get him to break down this door!”

Sidney squints at him through her own headache. “Tommy?”

He sighs. “It was a past life.” He heaves himself out of bed with a groan. “And if I don’t open the door, she will make good on that threat.”

“This isn’t an ex I need to worry about, is it?”

“Not an ex. Maybe my best friend.” Can he call her that when she lives a world away? It doesn’t really matter.

He swings the door open and comes face to face with a red-in-the-face Felicity who appears to be gearing up for another rant when he opens the door and takes all the wind out of her sails. Instead, she brushes past him into the apartment talking a mile a minute. In his current hungover state, Connor doesn’t absorb a word.

He nods to Diggle and gestures him into the apartment and moves to the coffee pot, switching it on in the hopes that he actually set it up to brew a fresh pot and not just reuse old grounds. Then he tunes back into Felicity’s diatribe.

“And since you couldn’t deign to respond to any of our texts or calls, we had to come here and basically break into your apartment. We _ditched_ Oliver to come check up on you. He thinks this is a cover up for his sudden absence from Starling, but John and I couldn’t not check up on you. Seriously? _Seventeen_ missed calls and you couldn’t bother responding? What were you do-“

“Hi.”

Felicity’s face is comical as she turns to stare at Sidney, who is unabashedly wearing his shirt and nothing else.

“Oh, hi. We…um…sorry. For interrupting. We just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Felicity’s face is bright red while John Diggle just looks amused.

“I’m not the one who was in a city under attack.” Freshly brewed coffee fills the air, waking him up little by little already.

“Or kidnapped,” John adds with a significant look in Felicity’s direction.

Connor turns back to her, with his arms crossed. “Kidnapped?”

She huffs indignantly. “Which you would know if you answered the phone. I’m fine, by the way.”

Digg snorts.

“And where was Oliver while you were getting kidnapped?”

If Sidney finds their conversation odd, she doesn’t comment as she picks up her purse and a dress from the floor. She slips back into the bedroom without a sound, closing the door behind her.

Felicity grimaces.

“Well, that’s the best part.” Digg’s voice is more biting than usual as he glares at Felicity. “It was his idea.”

“WHAT?!”

Felicity can’t meet his eyes as her fingers run over his countertop like it’s the most interesting computer in the world.

“What did Oliver do?” He didn’t think Oliver was capable of this, of putting _Felicity_ – of all people – in danger. No. The friend he knew was an ass, but he was a noble one.

Felicity sighs. “He needed a way to outthink Slade.”

“So he let you be kidnapped by a madman? What kind of excuse is that?”

John nods in agreement, turning to Felicity who just huffs in annoyance.

“I agreed it was the best way. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Connor scowls. No. He still doesn’t like it. “Did you agree to it?”

Defiant blue eyes stare challengingly back at him. “There was no other way. He had _Laurel_ , Connor. He’d kidnapped her because he wanted to kill the woman Oliver loved, so we convinced him he had the wrong woman. It allowed me to get close enough to bring him down to Oliver’s level.”

A glance over at Digg confirms that he’s not the only one who suspected that it was the truth, that Felicity really was the one Slade needed to kill to break Oliver. Neither him nor Digg were happy with this turn of events.

“I get that you two aren’t happy with this decision, but I _am_ a part of the team, and _I_ did what needed to be done to stop Slade from destroying the city, so you can stop it with the double standards and exchanged looks. It was the only way to get under Slade’s guard and we all got out of there alive. Oliver was able to defeat Slade because of what I did.”

“But you could have died,” Digg says quietly, more menace in those few words than Tommy thought possible. “If anything had happened to you, I might have killed Oliver myself.”

Connor nods solemnly. “And I would have come back to make sure you didn’t get caught.”

Digg nods in his direction.

“Although I don’t think Oliver would give you much trouble,” Connor points out as he pours himself a mug of coffee. “He’d probably _let_ you kill him.”

Felicity rolls her eyes. “You guys are blowing this way out of proportion. And now that we’ve checked in on you, we’ll get out of your hair.”

She walks up to Connor and pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

This woman is unbelievable. It’s like she wasn’t the one held hostage. He would definitely not be okay this soon after an attack. Nope. The pain would still be fresh. He’d probably punch his best friend.

But he’s not the one who was kidnapped. And he trusts Felicity to stand up for herself when Oliver really does cross the line. He trusts her as much as it terrifies the crap out of him. She might not be the one running around the streets at night, but she puts herself out there and puts herself in danger just as much as Oliver does.

Connor pulls away enough to look into her eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay, too, but do me a favor?”

Reluctantly, she nods her assent.

“Let Digg or Ollie teach you how to defend yourself. For _all_ of our piece of minds.”

“The minute we’re back in Starling,” Digg agrees, clapping Connor on the back. “Sorry we can’t stay longer. Oliver’s probably already wondering where we disappeared to.”

“Speaking of,” Felicity turns from the door, “did you know Oliver can fly a plane? I’m assuming that’s not a pre-Island thing, because no one with a smidge of common sense would let that kid in the cockpit of an airplane. But seriously, I mean, the guy disappears for five years and comes back with new talents, and not-so-nice friends.”

“A plane?”

“Yeah, he flew a _plane_. I’m still in shock. He’s even pretty good at it, right, Digg? Way better than that sketchy Chinese guy who flew us there the first time.”

Connor shakes his head. “Yeah, I don’t want to know. Have a good trip back. Let me know when you get there.”

Felicity rounds on him with a stern face, halfway out the door. “You better not forget to answer your phone again, mister, or I will come right back here. Got it?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Got it.”

Satisfied, she flounces from the room with Digg on her heels and the door clicking shut behind them. The only indication they were ever there is the fact that he’s awake with a killer hangover. He doesn’t have to be at work for hours.

“Your friends are…interesting.”

He turns to look at Sidney with a shrug and a casual smile.

“Kidnappings, death threats, ambiguous sounding things…”

“They work in a special crimes unit in the States.” He smiles at the vague statement that almost makes what they do sound legal. “It can be a bit hairy so they tend to overreact to thinks like not answering phones.”

“These are the friends you mentioned last night?”

He agrees and holds out the coffee pot to ask if she wants some. She shakes her head.

“They seem…protective.”

He laughs. “They saved my life. They like to check in.”

“Sounds like quite the story.”

Connor starts to pull out the makings for breakfast. He’s not going to force Sidney to leave, but he’s not entirely content with this current line of questioning. “It is, but it’s not really a happy one either. Eggs?”

“Actually, I’ve got to go see a guy about a spaceship from Mars.”

He grins at the less than subtle excuse but nevertheless waves off his first one night stand since he left Starling.  He’d actually had fun. Now it actually feels like everything he left behind is firmly in the past.

Maybe now he can finally move on.


	11. Home Sweet Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest: I'm not 100% sure what this is, but HERE! Have a new chapter!

**Home Sweet Home**

Chicago.

Once it had been his home away from home: the place he spent his summers with his mother and his cousin. Then it became his home permanently for several years when his father all but vanished from the face of the Earth. Turns out he’d spent all that time in Nanda Parbat, but at the time, all he’d been was a frightened preteen who’d lost his mother and his father in a short span of time.

It was in those years that he’d taken the name Connor Rhodes. It allowed him to hide within his aunt and uncle’s family, to become one of them instead of the Merlyn heir who had lost his mother.

And then his aunt died.

Suicide, they called it.

It had messed Connor up for a long time. He’d been carted to therapist after therapist after that, Uncle Cornelius having decided they had waited too long and should have done that when he first came to them after the death of his own mother.

Malcolm had come to drag him back to Starling the summer before his freshman year of high school, but by then there was a part of him that had already made Chicago his home. He could tell in the relief that flooded his system as he stepped off the plane at O’Hare. It was in that first breath of Illinois air, the bite of the wind at his exposed skin, the cold he hadn’t felt in the last couple years when he was away in Riyadh.

He pulls the scarf tighter around his neck with a grin as he lifts a hand to hail a cab. The city looks just as he remembers it the last time he flew in to visit Claire, when he had the epic shouting match with Uncle Cornelius and vowed to never return to their house. It looks the same, and yet it also seems foreign to his eyes, eyes that have seen haggard, war-torn streets in Riyadh and Starling City. He can’t look down neat, manicured streets without seeing the potential for destruction and the ways to help stem the damage should the worst happen.

Maybe that’s what makes him a good trauma surgeon.

He’s trained for emergency situations, to look at a situation, assess the damage and treat the worst injuries so he can save the whole.

Chicago is his first step. A couple years ago, he entertained the idea of moving back to Starling to help with Oliver’s…mission, but that thought is a vestige of the past. He’s here to do a job, to make an impact in a large city were violence on the street sends kids to the hospital all the time, where they don’t have a vigilante looking out for the little people.

It’s his second home.

The apartment he got is far from extravagant. It might be nicer than what a surgical fellow still paying off med school loans would be able to afford. But he’s lucky enough to have no loans left over from med school to worry about. He could have gotten a better apartment, gotten Claire to shop around for him instead of surfing the web to find an acceptable one person apartment. He’ll have to go shopping for furniture soon. The only things in the room are boxes stacked neatly off to the side that hold his random knickknacks from when he was last in the states. But they take up a pitiful amount of space since he’d had Digg wait on sending the bigger pieces. 

Honestly, he really doesn’t know how much more he has. He left most of the furniture in his last apartment.

Either way, the apartment is eerily empty. The kitchen is recently updated and sleek, but the lack of table or couch in the main room makes it feel uninviting. His footsteps echo around the room as he walks up to the window and looks out at the city. He sprang for the room because of the view. It’s not stellar, but it’s also not a brick wall.  He can see mostly just other apartment buildings, but the view from the bedroom gives him a straight shot down a city block and a nice view of a slice of city life. 

Connor turns to the rest of the room with a sigh.

That’s what he forgot: a bed.

He could, presumably, go out now and buy one. Sleep on the floor for a couple days until he finally relents and buys a bed frame to put it in. But he’s just spend almost twenty hours travelling to get here. He’s tired. As much as he tried to sleep on the plane, he couldn’t.  And for better or worse, he starts his new job in two days at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center.

Because who wants more than a couple days to acclimate to a new time zone?

Definitely not his smartest choice.

The way Connor rationalizes it, he was basically living in this timezone with his night shifts, so he could tough it out for the next two hours and then pass out. His sleepless nights and unusual sleep schedule for the last eight years have to help with something, like easing his way into a new time zone. He’d wake up and spend a day getting settled into his new apartment. Then tomorrow, with any luck, he’ll be accustomed to the new time zone and have enough time to make sure he looks presentable and to show up early to his first meeting with the Chief Administrator and the Head of Trauma.

It was a good plan, but one that hadn’t accounted for his need to find a bed.

Maybe he should have gotten a hotel room for the night…

_Nanananananananana BATMAN!_

Connor laughs as he plucks his phone from the pocket of his carryon bag. He stopped asking how Felicity changed his ringtones from a distance years ago. This one was one of his favorite changes.

“Hey, John.” He turns back to the window to look at the crowded streets and sidewalks.

“ _Connor. Sounds like you got home safe.”_ John Diggle’s voice sounds worn, the way it has since his falling out with Oliver. Connor doesn’t know all the details, but it involves kidnapping Lyla, leaving an infant unsupervised, and teaming up with Malcolm. A baby coos happily in the background.

“Yeah, you too. How did Sara like Disney World?”

John laughs. “ _She bypassed all the princess toys and wanted to go on all the ‘big kid rides’, which of course AJ found hilarious._ _I think it’s safe to say she’s not going to be anyone’s damsel in distress.”_

“Just like her namesake.” Connor smiles softly at the reminder of a vibrant blonde who might have been his sister-in-law in another life.

“ _Just like her mother_ ,” John corrects with chagrin. “ _Next thing I know she’ll be learning how to fire a gun and asking for weapons for her birthday instead of new clothes.”_

Connor laughs at the image. He’s only met Lyla once and talked to her a couple times, but he gets the impression that’s not far off. She’s definitely a tough woman. “So I guess there’ll be no need to scare off any teenage boys.”

“ _Any daughter of mine will be able to take down any man who tries to do her wrong,”_ Lyla shouts from the background. “ _Won’t you, honey? And then Daddy and I will step in and take care of the mess. Yes we will.”_

Threats and baby noises make an interesting combination.

“Hi, Lyla.”

“ _Connor_. _How’s Chicago?”_

“Just like I remember. How’s everything there?”

“ _Good. Good. You start the new job tomorrow?_ ”

“No. I’ve got a day to settle in.” He runs his hand over the back of his neck sheepishly. “I probably should have given myself a couple more days.”

“ _You forgot about furniture, didn’t you?_ ” John asks.

Connor laughs. “Am I that predictable?”

“ _Felicity called it_ ,” John supplies. “ _In her words: ‘Connor needs his stuff sent to his address.’ She bet you wouldn’t admit it and would buy all new things.”_

She definitely knows him better than he knows himself. “She’s still out of town then.”

“ _She and his Royal Broodiness are still out of town. She reaches out regularly though._ ”

The bitterness in John’s voice has only festered since Oliver and Felicity drove off into the sunset like a sickeningly sweet happy ending of a romantic comedy. The cliché made Connor throw up a little in his mouth.

He was happy for his friends, of course. They deserved their happiness after a year of turmoil, but he’s equally happily that he doesn’t have to witness it. He’s gotten photo updates of their world tour. If you told him that Felicity and Oliver would be hiking and camping around the world, Connor would have laughed in their faces. Felicity was not the outdoorsy person. She preferred her computers, much like Connor preferred places filled with people.

“Well, next time you hear from her, tell her I said hi.”

“ _You’re not going to call her?_ ”

Not when Oliver might be the one to pick up the phone. He can just imagine that disaster of a conversation. ‘Hey, Ollie. So I’m alive and your girlfriend’s known for years. Bye.’ He has no doubt he’d have Oliver at his door in record time with a reluctant Felicity right behind him. It’s been over two years, but he’s not ready to jump back into Thomas Merlyn. “Nah.”

John sighs, yet accepts his word as an answer. “ _Alright. Well, I’ll leave you to run out and buy a bed. I promise not to tell Felicity._ ”

He laughs. “Thanks, John. I’ll touch base with you once I’ve finally gotten settled in.”

“ _And if we don’t hear from you tomorrow, good luck with the new job.”_

Lyla echoes the sentiment from further away and Connor grins.

“Thanks, guys. Talk to you later.”

“ _Bye!”_

Connor smiles as he slips his phone into his back pocket and grabs his wallet and keys. He takes one last look at the barren apartment before heading out the door. His smile can’t be held back as the door clicks into place behind him. He can imagine his life here already: living in the city he grew up in, talking and skyping with the Diggles and Felicity, saving lives in the hospital. It’s all here in Chicago.

He finally feels like he’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Chicago Med Episode 1! *claps hands in giddy excitement*


	12. A Dramatic Entrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's first day at Chicago Med.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BACK! Sorry, it's been forever and a half. Which means I'm not sure how this fits in with everything that comes before. As with all the previous chapters, this chapter is unbeta'd. I really hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter 12**

He really has no idea why he thought Chicago would be any better than Starling City. He hadn’t been in town for more than 48 hours and he’s already been in a train crash. Its like he attracted trouble, courted it even. From his childhood to his residency to his fellowship as a Trauma Surgeon, it seems he can’t go somewhere calm.

Or doesn’t want to. He can’t deny that he’s a thrill seeker.

Although showing up to his first day of work in the back of an ambulance, covered in blood wasn’t in his plan. He knew Chicago wouldn’t be _serene_ but still…a train crash? Did these events follow him around?

He didn’t mean to traumatize the med student. He just had a job to do and do fast. So he had stepped in. Now, sitting in a quiet room, faced with the gash on his arm, he felt a little bad about it. Just a little. She had to get used to the pace of the ER. He didn’t pull punches. That wasn’t who he was, not since the earthquake. Leaving Starling had changed him. He wouldn’t coddle interns. It would hurt them in the long run.

Connor sighs and pulls off his shirt so he can get a better look at the cut on his bicep. Compared to his other injuries, this is nothing, a scratch. He grabs himself a suture kit and disinfects the wound. It’s long and deep enough that he’s going to have to stitch it, even if it would be a bitch to do himself. The rest of the doctors are busy saving lives and there’s no way he’s going to ask an intern to assist.

“Doctor Rhodes, I thought you could use these…”

He glances back to see the spare scrubs being carried in by one of the nurses. He offers her a barely there smile and focuses back on his arm. “Thank you.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Must have snagged it on the wreckage.” He would shrug if he wasn’t working on his own arm. He’d laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Chicago reminds him so much of Starling, so much so that the difference between him now and him five years ago is jarring. Before everything, before the Undertaking, before Tommy Merlyn died, he had been in love with Laurel Lance, had been fragile and…safe. Now, getting hurt in wreckage was common place, stitching himself up was a fact of life. No wonder Oliver had gotten stranded on an island and become a vigilante.

The nurse frowns at him, voice adopting a teasing tone: “You know we do have a couple of doctors around here. I could hook you up.”

Connor smiles and glances at her nametag. April. Oh, he likes her. Humor in the face of odd doctors. That’s good. Cause he’s independent and quirky. He likes people that can work with that. “I don’t need one. I could use a nurse though. Come be my other hand?”

She nods. He feels bad testing out his new back story with her. It’s technically not a lie, that he grew up in Chicago. He lived here as much as he ever lived in Starling City.  They joke about the situation, tossing words back and forth in friendly banter as he closes up the wound. She’s efficient as they talk, clearly capable. If he was still Tommy, he’d be hitting on her already, but he’s not. He’s Connor Rhodes. He doesn’t hit on everything that moves. He appreciates that she can be a nurse and just that.

…

Whispers follow him around all day. He supposes that dramatic entrance where he told off the Senior Resident What’s-his-face, didn’t help with flying under the radar. Nor the fact that he managed to butt heads with the Chief of Psychiatry, Dr. Charles. Or that he had to display his fluent Spanish when his patient’s girlfriend arrived with only a rudimentary understanding of English.

He does his best to ignore the stares and do his job. That’s why he’s here: to use medicine to save lives.

He had to fight to get Jamie on a ventilator, fight to get a kid with terminal disease treatment of pneumonia. It was one of those things he hadn’t expected to happen his first day. Then again, he was told that the worst part of practicing medicine was patients that wouldn’t listen to reason. Jamie had the right to refuse treatment. It was just frustrating. He’d had to fight Dr. Charles too just to get him to convince the boy to do it.

At least he and Dr. Charles ended up in a good place. Connor’s not sure he’s ever going to be on solid terms with Dr. Halstead. It started off Rocky and got worse. Seems like he wanted to pick a fight, like the fact that Connor had grown up rich had protected him from the world. He would like to throw it back in Halstead’s face, but he bit his tongue. Halstead wasn’t going to break his cover.

The view from the roof though, that was doing wonders for his peace of mind. It’s vaguely self-depricating, standing on the roof staring out at a skyline that reminds him of Starling, or rather what Starling looked like before the Undertaking levelled half the Glades. Oh, he knows it’s a completely Oliver-like thing to do, to stare off into the void and brood. At least he tries to make conversation with people when they approach him.

God, he could use a drink.

Connor takes a deep breath and closes his eyes against the setting sun. He’s had his moment, a break in his hectic first day, now it’s time to get back to work, time to save lives. That is why he became a doctor after all: to save lives.

…

The breather was just when he needed for his luck to turn, apparently. He came back from his break to test results that match his crash victim to Jamie, the college student fighting so hard to live with a terminal illness, the kid who just needs a pair of healthy lungs.

Coming off that high, he comes across the med student from earlier.

She’s hunched over the practice dummy, stabbing in a needle to practice her central line. She’s doing everything right now with her headphones blasting and blocking out the rest of the world. Her hands are steady, the motions sure. He knows first hand that real life ERs are never like that. Feeling a little bad that she’s probably doing this because of what happened earlier, he steps into the room.

“Central line. Can’t tell you how many times I missed before I finally got it.”

“I know how to do it,” she insists without looking over. “I just couldn’t do it in there.”

“It takes practice, that’s all.” And now he sounds like all his teachers, especially Doctor Corbal who insisted that if he spent half as much time practicing as he did flirting, he would be a great doctor one day.

“I’m fine with him.” She finally looks at him. “I never miss.”

“Yeah, he’s the ideal patient.” That’s the thing that’s so hard to understand in med school, that life is messy and hardly ever follows a textbook definition of anything, _especially_ in an ER. “You can’t hurt him and his life’s not hanging in the balance.”

“If this rotation weren’t a requirement, I wouldn’t be here.”

Finally, the truth comes out. He’s oddly proud of himself for getting her to open up. “And where would you be?”

“I’m a lab person.”

Of course. “Pathology?”

“Maybe.”

That’s a yes. It’s adorable how much she believes it. “Yeah, every med student, once they start dealing with patients, thinks they’d do better in pathology. I did.” He’d insisted on it too, for months, right up until the moment he had to apply for residencies. 

She narrows her eyes at him, like she doesn’t believe it. “What made you change your mind?”

Connor shrugs. “I interned in an ER like this one. I saw people come through the door every day, on the verge of death and I saved lives. It’s different, working with your hands. It takes heart. You lose that in the lab.”

She nods slowly, turning back to the practice dummy. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Just you wait, Doctor…”

“Reese,” she supplies. “Sara. I’m not a doctor yet.”

“You will be,” Connor says with a grin as he walks out of the room. If she can channel that conviction into an ER room, that drive into helping a living, breathing patient. Then she’s going to be just fine. She wants to be good at this.  She just needs to get past that anxiety.

These people are starting to grow on him. Chicago was definitely the right choice.

…

“ _So, how was your first day?_ ”

Connor laughs at the question as he walks down the dark street. “It was good, Felicity. It started out with a train crash and ended up with a life-saving lung transplant.”

“ _A train crash? Sounds gruesome?”_

“It was rough. Something happened to the track. I was lucky I wasn’t in the car that fell.”

“ _Please tell me that was just a really bad joke and that you weren’t_ on the train.”

“This coming from the woman who runs around with vigilantes,” he teases as he slows to a stop outside the bar. Molly’s had been recommended to him by just about everyone in the hospital. It was apparently owned by some firefighters over at 51. “I made a splash when I came in with an ambulance and pissed off the Head Resident, who might also hate me because I grew up rich.”

She laughs. “ _Well, you haven’t slept with his girlfriend so he can’t hate you too much…you didn’t sleep with his girlfriend, did you?”_

“Whoa, Lis! I’m not the one who had a habit of sleeping with taken women. That was my cohort in crime who now dresses up in green leather and shoots arrows in people.” A couple girls walk past and look him over before ducking into the bar with a giggle. He shakes his head. “Besides, I’m just trying to make friends.”

“ _Tommy, you’ve got like a magical ability to make friends,”_ Felicity sighs. “ _I mean, even if you’re Connor now, you’re still you. You attract people like…I don’t know…Frat boys to a toga party? It’s ridiculous. As if your good looks weren’t enough, you can talk to people without accidentally putting your foot in your mouth._ ”

“Felicity, your babbles are endearing. You literally have Oliver wrapped around your little finger.”

She sighs, a happy noise. “ _Yeah, I kinda do, don’t I?”_

“Yes. You really do,” Connor says with a smile. “It’s nauseating.”

“ _You’re not even here_.” She harrumphs. “ _How could you possibly know that?”_

“John and I talk.” He spots Dr. Charles through the window. “Listen, I am about to go give a potential new friend some good news. Call you later? And then you can tell me about the date Oliver’s going to ask you on.”

_“Uh-huh. You and John with your talks. And if Oliver ever does ask me out, you will be the first to know._ ”

“I’m holding you to it, Smoak. I better be the first call.”

A laugh. _“Deal.”_

“Call you later, Smoak.”

“ _Bye, Wizard. Make good life choices._ ”

 


End file.
